Here lies Mike,
Winner of the Internet,
Defeated by reality,
Died refreshing the page,
Slain by his own hot take
Ever crawl into bed at night, phone still in hand, and think: “Ah, yes. Another triumphant day of complaining and arguing about nonsense on the internet”?
Yeah, me neither. But somehow, here we are, doing it every single day.
You open your favourite app to check the weather or watch a cat do a backflip, and minutes later, without even seeing it happen, you’re neck-deep in the comments section of someone’s misguided take on oat milk. Suddenly, you’re a nutritionist, an economist, and an oat farmer all at once.
I know I’m not saying anything new here, but it’s an observation I just can’t resist. It’s like we’re all on this hamster wheel of outrage, chasing the next thing to dunk on, generating gigawatts of energy in the process.
Politics, pop culture, a random stranger’s dinner choices – it’s all fair game. We argue, we subtweet, we dunk on people we’ve never met, all while convincing ourselves it’s time well spent. Spoiler: it rarely is.
“Never argue with stupid people; they will drag you down to their level and then beat you with experience.”
And yet, we’re all infinitely aware that we’re so often being baited, and that the solutions are as easy as blocking the annoying pricks, or scrolling past the earnest innocents, or simply quitting the damn app.
Instead, there we are: either giving the baiters exactly what they want or otherwise shitting on some poor innocent soul with our unnecessary contributions.
So what’s the point of it all? I’d love to say it’s about connection, about learning and growing together. That’s certainly what I tell my far more offline friends when they ask what I get out of social media.
And sometimes, it is that simple. But most of the time, it feels more like I’m constantly defending such simple thoughts as “I like lasagne” or “It’s okay for EVs to make fake vroomvroom noises, some people enjoy it” against people who manage to somehow dispose the very notion of both positions.
“Never wrestle with pigs. You both get dirty, and the pig likes it.”
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not here to wag my finger at anyone – except maybe all of us together, inclusive guy that I am.
But really, I’m pointing the finger at myself. I’ve had my fair share of keyboard warrior moments, chasing the dopamine rush of being right (or at least feeling like I was). And sure, there’s some fun in it, a sense of camaraderie among the like-minded. But is it meaningful? That’s the question I keep circling back to.
When I picture my deathbed (which isn’t often…), I doubt I’ll be reminiscing about the time I won an argument about streaming platforms or how capitalism works – but I just might lament the trips I didn’t take and the days I didn’t make.
Really, social media can be summed up as plainly as this simple truth of large groups:
“You can’t get any movement larger than five people without including at least one fucking idiot.” ― Kim Stanley Robinson, Green Mars
We should’ve banned it early and with prejudice, the whole damn thing.
Think about it. Humans are naturally drawn to critique and be critical – it’s a mix of psychology, biology, and social dynamics. Social comparison is baked into our species.
Biologically, it’s a big part of how we decide who to procreate with – but it just happens to have the side-effect of messing with our social attitudes. It drives us to criticise others as a way of boosting our own self-esteem and our social position, especially when we perceive someone as more successful or confident.
Even worse is the role projection plays, leading us to target traits in others that reflect our own insecurities. Add to this our evolutionary negativity bias – our tendency to focus on flaws rather than strengths – and it’s no surprise that criticism often dominates our interactions.
Take it online, where anonymity and distance remove consequences, this tendency becomes amplified, making it easier to critique someone than to engage with them meaningfully.
I’m still saying nothing new here, but there it is.
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